How Strong Do You Think I Am?
by hot-topicx
Summary: So, it's an elaboration of the trip to Washington in Look At Those Eyes. From Ian's POV.
1. Chapter 1

"Four score and seven years ago-"

"Please, spare me the speech," Erin muttered as she walked over to the enormous statue, gazing up at it in wonderment. He chuckled and watched her, biting his lower lip. The sun was just setting in the sky behind them and it cast a beautiful, orange hue over the stone. She dropped to the floor and pulled out her sketch book, intending to capture the beauty of the moment. If he _had_ to admit it, he'd say it was rather pretty, but he couldn't take his eyes off of Erin.

"It's getting cold," Ian mumbled from behind her, sitting down and wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her into his lap. "How long is this gonna be?"

"As long as it takes," she murmured. He buried his face in her hair and took in a deep breath. If he was going to freeze to death, he may as well do it happily and he had to admit, holding her and smelling her hair like this definitely made him happy. So content, in fact, that he fell asleep almost immediately. After a decent nap, he felt her shake him to consciousness. Wiping his eyes, he glanced up at her smiling form. He stretched and got up slowly, taking her hand and pulling her to the steps.

"Where to now, Pip?" he asked softly, pressing his lips to her temple.

"The National Mall, then back to the van," she replied, stretching her legs. He was glad she was almost ready to head back to the van. They had only been here for roughly six hours, but Erin was definitely not going to waste any time. She wanted to see everything the capitol had to offer and he was going to let her. He was only along for the ride, after all, having seen Washington a few times before.

"Whatever you want," he replied, tugging her down the steps carefully and plucking the book from her hand. He flipped through the pages and studied the one she'd just finished. "Very nice. A+ for sure."

Erin snatched the book back, giving him a look as she stuffed it back into her bag. He grinned and stuffed his hands into his coat pockets in a weak attempt to warm himself. He knew she hated when someone touched her book, even him. He didn't quite understand it, but he usually respected her wishes. Until she went to bed, anyway. He had a knack for going through her songbook, too, which she also hated. He couldn't help it. It wasn't so much that he was curious, but more so that he liked the way she expressed herself. He loved her music and her drawings because they had been her escape from the darkness in her life for so many years. Or, at least, that's what she told him. He honestly didn't know much about Erin's past. He knew she was adopted and that she didn't ever feel quite at home until she came to McKinley. Whether that was him or her foster family he wasn't completely sure, but her books pointed towards him.

The sun had been down for a couple hours now, so the National Mall was dewy and cold. That didn't stop either of them from plopping down in the grass and getting comfortable. Ian knew this drawing wouldn't take nearly as long as the last, seeing as the Washington Monument didn't have nearly as much detail to capture, not to mention it was dimly lit at the base. He was surprised she'd wanted to come out here at all. It dawned on him as she set the book aside and laid back in the grass.

"It's beautiful isn't it?" she murmured, gazing up at the stars. "I mean, just everything about our capitol. It's gorgeous." He shivered and kept his eyes on her, making no move to glance up at the stars. It didn't matter what they looked like. The most beautiful thing that mattered to him was her.

"Beautiful," he whispered as she glanced back at him. He crawled over to her and pulled her into a soft kiss, making sure she understood exactly what he meant. From the way she kissed him back, the way her fingers gripped the collar of his coat, he realized that she not only knew, but had been waiting for it all day long.


	2. Chapter 2

Ian nipped at her collarbone, chuckling softly as he listened to her breath hitch in her throat. He'd never get used to that sound, nor would he get used to any of the other beautiful sounds she had uttered thus far. He was surprised when she pinned him to the mattress, sitting on his waist and running her nails down his chest gently. The hotel room was cozy, especially when compared to the freezing temperatures they had exposed themselves to in the van a mere hour ago. Though, if he had to pick a spot for their first time, he'd choose the van over virtually any other place. It was just so much more like them than the small room they shared now.

The thoughts were swept from his mind when she bit down on his hipbone, causing him to shudder violently and groan. She giggled softly and kissed her way back up to his lips from his naval. The things this girl could do with her mouth were obscene and he loved every minute of it, taking the opportunities to challenge her. It was like Erin had been made for him, his perfect match. One of those ridiculous things that most people believed hardly ever happened. He certainly didn't believe it would ever happen, and not to him at any rate. Ian never thought he'd find anyone on the planet that would ever truly accept him for who he was, but Erin didn't even question it. She was his from that first moment they laid eyes on each other, and he was hers. He just wished she would open up to him more.

Once again, the stars aligned for Ian McKinley and he got the opportunity he needed to get Erin Ulmer to tell him something. As she collapsed on her back and ran a gentle hand through his hair, he caught a glimpse of her right arm, a body part she had kept hidden from him until tonight. Thinking it was a trick of the light, he snatched up her wrist to examine it. He knew it wasn't shadows immediately, and not from further examination, but from the way she tried to jerk out of his grip.

"What's this?" he snapped, holding her arm steady and snatching up her left wrist to examine the scars that riddled that arm. The gashes were a wide range of things. Some sloppy, some pristine, some red and tender-looking, some old and scarred over. Fresh or not, they all had the same affect on him. He was angry. "Erin, the fuck is this?" He glowered at her as she snatched her arms free of his grip and climbed out of bed.

"It's history," she hissed, storming over to her suitcase. The acid in her tone stung him a bit, but he ignored it, sitting up to lean his back against the headboard. "Why do you think I wear long sleeves all the fucking time? I'm not always cold."

"I never thought you were hiding scars like _that_!" In all honesty, he hadn't thought she was hiding scars at all, but he decided that it was probably foolish of him to make an assumption. He changed the subject slightly and thought of the raw looking flesh on her arms. "Some of those look fresh, Erin! What the fuck?! Don't I make you happy?" His voice cracked slightly on the last word and he cleared his throat quickly, shaking it off. The last thing he was going to do now was cry.

"What are you talking about?" she murmured, distracted from digging the clothes from her suitcase. She stood up slightly, a piece of fabric clutched tightly in her fist, and examined her arms. "The last time I took a knife to my arm was the morning before I met you." She trailed off slightly, talking more to herself than him at this point. The mention of him seemed to snap her out of it, though, and her glare snapped up to him. The look on her face reminded him of the old saying 'If looks could kill.' "What about _you_, Ian? You have a couple of nice ones hidden by your wristbands."

"Those are from ages ago!" Ian roared, standing to his feet. A brief thought of neighbors crossed his mind, but it was for a mere millisecond before he focused on her comment again. It infuriated him that she would even compare his scars to hers. The fact that his could be hidden by wristbands rather than long sleeves was a testament to how different their battle wounds were. Besides, that was an experiment. I didn't like the feeling of a blade slicing through my skin. I fucking told you that!" His anger seemed to peak at this and his mind left him as he continued. "And to think, I thought when I was telling you that story you were rubbing your arms because you were imagining the feeling! Turns out you were just uncomfortable with the topic altogether. Care to share, Pip?! Anything else you chose to keep from me!? Anything you wanna share?"

He was standing over her now, glaring down at Erin with cold eyes. The sight of her woke something in him, though, and all the anger was shoved out of him with the feeling of a swift kick in the gut. She was half dressed, her back pressed against the wall hard enough to hurt. Her eyes were shut tightly and she had her head bent as though to keep her face from being a target. He stood there, puzzled at the sight. When she finally opened an eye to look up at him expectantly, he spoke.

"Do you think I'm gonna hit you?" he asked, a hint of anger still in his tone. It was no longer directed at her, but at the monster in her past that made her this way. She didn't respond and that scared him. He did the only thing he could think to do and tugged her into a tight embrace. He felt the urge to sob coming along, but he pushed it back by burying his face in her hair and inhaling deeply to remind himself that she was right there. He kissed the top of her head and sighed softly. "What the hell did they do to you?" he murmured. She remained rigid for a minute more, which was nothing short of torture in Ian's mind. Finally, she wrapped her arms around him, attempting to hide the fact that she was shaking. He felt her lips on his collarbone and he was suddenly hyperaware of the fact that he had elected not to put on any clothes.

Erin pulled back slightly to look up at him, her eyes full of gratitude and adoration. It made his mind wander back to the van when she had whispered the three words he'd been dreading since they started dating back in freshman year. _Love_. Did it really exist? Probably not. But he knew, as he looked down into Erin's eyes, that this feeling for her was as close to it as he was ever going to get. So he leaned down and kissed her when she stood on her toes to reach him. He took her arms gently and rolled the sleeves down to kiss every imperfection on her skin once-something he was sure to do millions of times in the years to come. He pulled her into another embrace and stroked her hair gently, murmuring, "You must never do that again. Promise me."

He felt her nod. "I promise," she whispered. She looked up at him, the same look of gratitude in her eyes as she nudged his mouth to hers in a warm kiss. Then her lips were pressed to his ear, muttering things to him-downright filthy things-and he was peeling her shirt from her skin, tugging her back to the bed.


End file.
